


Like a Magnet

by Adaris



Category: EOS 10 (Podcast)
Genre: Ice Cream, M/M, i finished this podcast in 4 days, i like to make myself sad, i'm FINE, i'm fine with this, references to the tiny computer that lives in ryan's head, rymazian simultaneously confirmed and squashed forever, the finale didn't actively murder me, throwing shade on silent storm and cowboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-21 13:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16577828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adaris/pseuds/Adaris
Summary: The station feels empty, and Ryan misses his boyfriend. Those two things arenotconnected.





	Like a Magnet

At least the cargo bay's the same. ~~My life might be upside down, but~~ whoever designed EOS 10 managed to reproduce the station perfectly, right down to the cargo bay you live in. Used to live in. Same rat infestation, caution tape over the doors, viewing platform that looked out onto deep space. I remember sitting next to you here, watching the ships arrive and depart and sometimes explode (someone should seriously put a bell on Levi). The long, long hours spent on that thing you call a spaceship, the running. So much running. 

I didn't know back then how deeply you had reached your hands into my heart, when you smiled and tilted your goddamn cowboy hat at a saturnian angle so it just hid your eyes, stupid pretty brown eyes—I bet you practiced that in the mirror.

This world was everything I wanted, right up until I realized what I really wanted was you. At least that clarified a lot of things for me—like why I couldn't stop thinking about your accent or how you said 'darling' when you were talking about me. Texas hasn't been a thing for three hundred years, and cowboys haven't been a thing for even longer than that. I'm just saying, as a motif, it's culturally irrelevant. But also, it's undeniably you. ~~Drama queen.~~

The other you, he might work for a shadow organization that manipulates the fabric of spacetime, but he dresses like everyone else, and talks like everyone else, and has way fewer scars. I even met him in a more normal way—waking up post-op, demanding to know who the hell he was, and chasing him down and cornering him at the gym. Okay, not a significantly more normal way, but at least I was wearing clothes. ~~I wish I'd met you at the gym instead of him.~~  He was the normal element in this equation. 

When I discovered the whole... time travel thing, on Adrarian Prime? Just for a second, I thought I could reach across time and pull you back to me (like a magnet). No consequences, no giving anything up, just you. In that second, I imagined what it would be like if I did it. I'd pretend that I didn't kill an entire sector of people to get you back, or they'd call us the destroyers of stars and the Alliance would chase us across the galaxy but it wouldn't matter, you know? Because I'd have you.  

I don't know what kind of future we would have had together (I'm not what you would call prime interstellar fugitive material), but I'd have liked to find out—the disasters and the triumphs and the sitting together on the bridge of your dubiously spaceworthy trash heap eating ice cream. 

Do you like ice cream?

Well, it doesn't matter. I still wonder about it though. Sometimes.

It's nice here, but I'm not nice—I wanted to destroy a  _solar system_  for you. I came so close to giving in, fixing everything the way ~~it should be~~ the way I wanted it to be. And I understood why he did it. Because if everything you wanted was right there in front of you, and all you had to do was reach out and grab it—who could say no? How impossible would that be? Well, good news, everyone. There's a little computer in my brain that tells me not to do shit like that (the last shreds of my morality helped too). And you disappeared from me one last time.

I guess I can't have anything.

I'm alone now, in the stupid empty cargo bay. Do I miss you?

No. I mean, technically, you never existed, so there's nobody for me to miss. That's ~~what I want to think~~  what I'm supposed to think. But I remember the color of your eyes, and the way you called me 'darling,' and the way we kissed in this cargo bay when we knew no one was watching. 

So for now—yeah. 

I miss you.


End file.
